Beams of Starlight
by Lady of Parchment and Ink
Summary: Everything is different after the war. "Magic was what had caused all of the bad things to happen to the people she cared about. Magic had caused death and destruction on a scale Hermione had never even heard of before she was thrust right into the middle of it." Hermione has pushed magic aside to protect herself. Eventually Dramione! 3 Summary sucks but please R&R! :)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Chapter One

The breeze through the open bedroom window ruffled the light blue curtains over the bed. A lock of curly chestnut hair danced across Hermione Granger's cheek and without looking up from the book she was reading, she tucked it carefully behind her left ear. She was sitting cross-legged on the white futon in the bedroom of the small flat she owned in Muggle London, reading _Hogwarts: A History _for the millionth time. Worn copies of the Daily Prophet cluttered her desk, but all of her possessions were still in various cardboard boxes stacked precariously about the room, save for two silver picture frames placed carefully on her bedside table. Her parents smiled happily out at her from one frame, their positions frozen, as was the Muggle custom for pictures. The second frame held a wizard photograph of Fred Weasley, his obnoxiously red hair waving in the breeze of the Burrow's garden, and his signature troublemaking smile lighting up his face.  
Crookshanks languidly strolled into the room, hopping into Hermione's lap and beginning to knead her legs furiously. Looking up from her book, Hermione smiled sadly at Crookshanks, petting the top of his fluffy ginger head. She looked to the small analog clock on the otherwise bare walls. Lifting Crookshanks up, she stood, brushing the cat hair off her jeans.

"Sorry Crook. I have to go to work." Knotting her curly hair into a bun on the top of her head, Hermione made her way to the front door of her flat, where her keys hung from a wooden peg beside her purple jacket. Pulling her jacket on and stuffing her keys in her pocket, Hermione exited her flat into the slight drizzle of the London day.

The bell above the bookshop's door twinkled and Hermione looked up from her perch on a stool behind the counter. The back of a white-blond head of hair was visible from overtop of the bookshelves.

"Can I help you with anything?" She called out. The man's head turned slightly towards her voice before he answered.

"No, I'm just browsing." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. She could have sworn that there was something familiar about that voice… she just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Okay then, just let me know if you need anything." She replied pleasantly, before grabbing a discarded stack of books off the edge of the front counter and going to shelve them. As she turned into the aisle the man was in, to shelve several of the articles in her arms, he turned to look at her.

The books in Hermione's arms clattered to the floor, and she groped blindly in her pockets for a wand she realized wasn't there.

Draco Malfoy stared back at her, a look that was a mixture of shock and disgust mingling on his aristocratic features.

"Granger?" He asked incredulously, his grey eyes widened in surprise. "I can't say it's nice to see you… what are you doing here?"

Hermione's hazel eyes glared maliciously at him.

"Working, Malfoy. Some of us have to work to afford our lifestyle, not all of us are spoiled Pureblood brats like you." Malfoy's mouth twisted into a smirk.

"I would've thought you'd have cursed me by now." He sneered. "Where's your wand, Mudblood?" Hermione's face reddened, and some of her abundance of curly hair was escaping from her bun, giving Draco the impression he was facing off against a rather small lion. Hermione turned her face away, and huffed under her breath. Composing herself as best she could, she asked him in her most patronizing voice,

"Can I help you with finding anything today, Mr. Malfoy?" Her hazel eyes were flat and lifeless, as if all of her fighting spirit had gone out of her with Draco's last remark. Draco sneered at her imperiously.

"Help finding anything in your _Muggle _bookshop? No. Even being in here is beneath me." With that said, Draco whirled around and dramatically exited through the door, the bell tinkling softly behind him. The tell-tale SNAP of someone Apparating let Hermione know he was gone, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Kneeling down, she began the slow and arduous task of picking up and reshelving all the books she had dropped.

Twisting the small bronze key in the doorknob of her flat, Hermione quickly let herself in. She hung her coat up beside her key on the peg, and flicked on the light in the hall. Her head was still swirling from her unexpected encounter with Draco Malfoy, and his cruel words still echoed in her head.

_Where's your wand, Mudblood?_

_Where's_

_Your_

_Wand?_

Hermione's hands shook, and pearly tears rolled down her cheeks. She furiously wiped at them, but more and more took their place. She sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth as the memories washed over her.

"_I'm looking for Wendell and Monika Wilkins?" Hermione inquired of a small, elderly man carry a drown paper bag full of groceries. He looked at her pityingly._

"_I'm sorry dear…" He shook his head sadly. "But they passed away four months ago. Tragic really… boating accident." _

_Hermione peered through the trees, the shadows of their leaves ensuring no one could see her. A large group of redheads stood in front of a lone grave. Molly Weasley was on her knees, wailing up at the sky, screaming for her son to come back. Arthur placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his face grey and more aged than it had been in all the years Hermione had known him. At the back of the group stood a tall, lanky redhead, and a smaller, skinny boy with untamable black hair. _

"_Where's Hermione?" She could hear Harry ask Ron. "I thought she would have at least come back for Fred's funeral…" As Ron turned to face Harry, Hermione could clearly see the bitter, angry, expression on his freckled face._

"_Where's Hermione been since the war? We haven't seen her in months, haven't heard a single word, and haven't gotten a single letter. She doesn't care, so why would she come back for Fred's funeral?" _

_Hearing Ron say those words pierced Hermione's heart. A single tear rolled down her face as she blew a kiss towards the grave that belonged to Fred Weasley, before she turned and disappeared into the trees. _

Magic was what had caused all of the bad things to happen to the people she cared about. Magic had caused death and destruction on a scale Hermione had never even heard of before she was thrust right into the middle of it. Fred's face bloomed in her mind's eye, and the tears continued to roll down her face in an even heavier stream than before.

She had loved him, and he had died. Died as he had lived; laughing. They had only been together a few short months before the battle; a battle he hadn't survived. Hermione folded her hands over her stomach as a wave of nausea washed over her. Standing, she raced for the bathroom and proceed to vomit up everything she had eaten that day. Rinsing her mouth, she flushed the toilet and dried her tears. Caressing her belly, she hummed quietly.

"I love you baby…" She hoped it was a boy. A little boy with red hair and blue eyes, just like his daddy. She missed Fred so much it hurt, and wished desperately that he could be there to see their child growing up.

She missed her friends, and her parents, and she even missed using magic. But she would never use magic again, not if she could help it. She wouldn't let Fred's child use magic. Magic, she believed, was what had caused this whole mess in the first place. If she didn't use magic, her life wouldn't be messy and exciting, it would be simple, and safe.

**AN: Revised on 3/22/14. I thought this was a better idea for this story, so I totally revised the first chapter. I hope you guys liked it! My birthday is next Wednesday, so maybe leave me a little birthday review? Love you all, hope you stick around for the next chapter! **

**Xoxo **

**~T**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Chapter Two

Draco Malfoy pushed his white blond hair out of his eyes in a gesture of irritation as he strode down the bustling street of Diagon Alley, towards the Ministry of Magic. Seeing Granger in that bookshop had thrown him for a loop. No one had seen her for months. The Daily Prophet would occasionally do an article on her disappearance, speculating about where she could be, and why. Some of Draco's favorites were that she was in Tibet, learning to be a monk, or in Los Angeles, running a very successful wizarding supply store.

Not that he actually read those articles, or anything.

He could care less about Mudblood Granger. He just thought it was strange how she disappeared without a trace, and then, three months later, HE, of all people, found her working in a Muggle bookshop.

Draco shook his head. _Why does it even matter? You two are sworn enemies, after all, you should be glad she's out of your life for good._

Smirking to himself at what he considered to be a rather happy thought, Draco continued on down the cobbled street towards the Ministry.

"Draco Malfoy?" The Welcome-Witch looked around the small sitting area before her disapproving gaze landed on the Malfoy heir. "This way." Draco unfolded himself from the uncomfortable metal chair he had been sitting on for the past half an hour and followed the plump witch down a narrow hall to a small, dimly lit room where a shadowy figure sat beside a metal table. They looked up as the Welcome-Witch, whose nametag read _Annabelle_, opened the door, and stood as Draco entered.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume?" The wizard extended a weather-beaten hand, and Draco tentatively shook it. "My name is Hugo Knottington, and I'm here to talk to you today about your options." He gestured to a metal chair, much like the one Draco had been sitting in before, which was across the table from the one he had been sitting in himself. "Please, have a seat."

Draco sat down and looked at the man across from him apprehensively. Mr. Knottington opened a manila folder that was in front of him, and scanned its contents.

"Draco Malfoy… Son to Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy nee Black… Charged with obstruction and aiding and abetting by the Wizenagamot and sentenced to two months community service… You didn't finish your seventh year at Hogwarts, son?" Draco shook his head. The man looked at him for a moment before plowing on.

"Your inheritance has been frozen for the time being, and you do not seem qualified for any of the jobs I can get for you… oh, except this one. Mr. Malfoy, are you interested in a potential career as a member of the Magical Maintenance Staff here at the Ministry?" Draco's top lip curled up in a sneer.

"I do not pick up other people's messes." Mr. Knottington looked at Draco carefully for one moment, and then continued.

"Well son, I'm not sure you have too many options then. You can apply to finish your seventh year at Hogwarts and get your NEWT's, or you can accept the reality that you won't be able to make a life for yourself as a wizard."

The bookshop had been lacking in business that day, and Hermione was sitting in a chair by the front windows, basking in the rare golden glow of the sunshine and reading aloud to her baby bump from _Hogwarts: A History_.

"Hogwarts is unplottable, which is to say that it cannot be found on any map, and it is not accessible to Muggles. The education of generations of witches and wizards is a sacred thing, and the best magical security has been employed in the case of Hogwarts." The door leading to the supply room opened, and the old lady Hermione worked for waddled out.

"Oh, dear, you're still here?" Mrs. Pennywhistle clucked reproachfully at the young woman. "Go out and enjoy the day! Things are slow here, I'll manage just fine on my own."

Hermione looked doubtfully at the elderly woman.

"Are you sure? I can stay… I don't really have any-" But Mrs. Pennywhistle cut her off, holding up on gnarled finger as if to say, _I don't want to hear it._

"No. A pretty young thing like you shouldn't be stuck in a dusty old shop on a day as fine as today! Get out and do some exploring, go have fun!" She all but pushed Hermione out the door, waving from the window as she watched her young employee walk slowly down the street.

Hermione soaked up the bright sunshine as she wandered down the busy streets of London. Almost as if her subconscious was sending her a message, Hermione found herself standing in front of the decrepit building that housed the Leaky Cauldron, and the entrance to Diagon Alley. _All that sun must have gone to my head. _Hermione reasoned, as she looked at the tarnished door handles of the pub.

Steeling herself, she gripped one of the handles, pulled the door open and entered the dark pub. As she made her way into the room inside, she could feel the eyes of all it's occupants on her, and she could hear the whispers beginning to grow. Tom, the old barkeep, spotted her and shouted,

"Aye, it's Miss Hermione Granger! Haven't seen you here in an age lass, where ye been?" He smiled widely and crookedly at her, showing all of his missing teeth.

"Oh, around." Hermione waved her hand in the air as she gave her vague answer. "Nice to see you though, Tom." She smiled tentatively at the barkeep before continuing through the pub to the wall that would let her in to Diagon Alley. As she exited the room, she could hear the muted murmurs build into a more audible buzz of voices, as the pub's occupants discussed the interesting turn of events the day had taken.

The bright colors and bustling noises of Diagon Alley had Hermione's head spinning. Street vendors shouted at her, offering their 'best deals on the latest products!', and passers-by gawked openly at her. Hermione pushed her curly hair out of her eyes and sucked in a calming breath. A group of young children and their parents stood in front of the broomstick store, their small hands pressed up against the glass and their eyes wide in childish awe and they fawned over the latest broomstick model. Hermione smiled fondly as she remembered many a trip to Diagon Alley where Ron and Harry had done that exact same thing. Smiling to herself, she continued walking, until she found herself standing in front of an obnoxiously purple shop with an automated Weasley head beaming down at her. _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes,_ the sign proclaimed in swirling red writing. Folding her hands over her baby bump, Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself before she pushed through the revolving door and into the ear-drum blasting noise of the shop.

It was just as she remembered it; children practically swinging from the ceiling, various noises coming at her from all angles, and walls filled with both strange and wondrous paraphernalia. Hermione had only taken a single step further into the shop when an accusing voice said,

"What are you doing here?" Hermione turned to face a rather angry Ronald Weasley, who was flanked by an equally angry looking Harry Potter and an even angrier looking Ginevra Weasley. Her face was reddened all the way up to the roots of her hair.

"Hi Ron… Harry… Ginny." Hermione looked at her former friends, all of whom were looking at her with a mixture of disgust, anger, and sadness. "I'm sorry I haven't been around much-"

Ginny cut her off.

"Haven't been around much? Hermione, we haven't seen or heard from you in _three months_! And then you just show up here, and expect to be able to just say you're sorry? Where were you after the battle? Where were you when we buried Fred? Where have you been, what have you been doing, why did you go?" Ginny had began her rant yelling, but as she continued to speak she lost steam, until she was crying. Hermione reached out to engulf her friend in a hug, but Ron stepped in her way. His gaze was cold as it landed on her.

"You're not welcome here." He said, his voice icy cold. Harry looked as if he was about to protest, but one look at the anger on Ron's face, and he slowly closed him mouth. Hermione's temper flared.

"Ronald Weasley! You stupid git, you, you, you _irritating prat!_" Hermione was yelling now too, and people in the shop were beginning to notice. "I went to Australia to find my parents after the battle! But you know what? When I got there, they were dead. Killed in a boating accident! And for your information, you stupid git, I did come back for Fred's funeral. I was there, even if you didn't see me." As Hermione was yelling, tears had begun to roll down her cheeks.

"I. Loved. Him. I loved him Ron, I loved him and he died in the battle. I came back for his funeral… Ron, Ginny, Harry… I'm having his baby." At these words, Ron looked stunned. Harry looked just looked uncomfortable. Ginny was at a loss for words, which was a first. Finally, Ginny spoke.

"Hermione, I had no idea…" She stepped forward, arms outstretched, but Hermione stepped back.

"No, I believe you've all made yourselves very clear. I'll go now." Wiping at her tears furiously, Hermione whirled around and exited the shop.

Draco was dumbfounded. He was wandering around Diagon Alley in a sort of daze, his mind fogged with unwelcome thoughts.

_Frozen inheritance… Seventh year at Hogwarts… Magical Maintenance… _

What was he going to do? Draco didn't know how to live without magic that was for sure… He hated to admit this fact, even to himself, but he had lived for years being coddled and taken care of, and now that he was on his own, he didn't know what to do.

He walked slowly through Diagon Alley, his options swirling through his head. When he had reached the gates that led to the rest of Wizarding London, and his own manor, he stopped for a moment, resting one hand gently on the black wrought iron gate.

Going back to Hogwarts wouldn't be so terrible, he supposed. Especially if it ensured that he wouldn't have to work in the Magical Maintenance department! Turning on his heel, Draco Apparated away.

He had an owl to send to a certain Mr. Knottington.

**AN: So there's chapter two! I'm working on chapter three right now, hopefully it will be up soon. I know Hermione might seem a bit OOC right now, but she's pregnant, right? Maybe we can just chalk it up to hormones… but eventually everything that's happening right now will make sense. Please leave me a review letting me know what you think!**

**Xoxo**

**~T**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

Chapter Three

Hermione was reading a new book that she had purchased the other day after work when she heard a small tapping noise coming from her front door. Pushing the knitted blanket she had draped over her legs off to the side, she got up and padded across the floor to the door. The knocking came again, more insistently this time. Peering through the eye hole she caught a flash of bright red hair. Steeling herself, she opened the door roughly.

"What is it?" Hermione's voice was distinctly unfriendly as she said these words, but she stopped short at the sight of none other than George Weasley standing on the stoop.

Draco Malfoy paced back and forth in front of the window, watching the sky, his mind troubled. It had been three days since he had sent a letter to Headmistress McGonagall, shouldn't she have sent back a reply right now. Draco was so anxious, he was on the verge of tearing out his perfectly groomed white-blonde hair, of which he was very proud. The heels of his shoes tapped anxiously on the floor, and the sound reverberated off the high ceiling of the Manor. As his grey eyes anxiously watched the grey sky, a small house elf crept in a side door.

"Master Draco?" The elf's squeaky voice echoed in the empty room, startling Draco. He whirled around, startled.

"Yes Tippy?" He asked the elf, composing himself.

"You have a visitor…" The elf stepped out of the doorway, pushing the door open further as she did, revealing a tall figure standing in the doorway. Minerva McGonagall stepped out from the shadows.

George Wesley took in Hermione's small apartment with careful eyes. His gaze wandered over the overstuffed purple chair in front of the fireplace, the stacks of books on every available surface. The tiny kitchen with its empty cupboards, and the garbage can full of Muggle take-out boxes.

Hermione rubbed her hands together anxiously. "Do you want to… sit?" She asked tentatively, her voice quiet. George looked at her with sad eyes; Hermione felt a pang in her chest as he looked at her with blue eyes that were so similar to his twins'. George nodded, and folded his tall body onto Hermione's white ottoman.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione questioned, as she walked to the kitchen to root through the cupboards for some tea. Putting the kettle on, she turned to face George as he answered.

"I heard the commotion in the shop last week…" George began. "… You're pregnant?" George asked this question as though he had never even heard of a baby, as if the idea was too much for him to wrap his head around. Hermione nodded in confirmation of George's question, and the red-head continued.

"My mother will kill you if she finds out you kept the news of her grandchild from her, you know… She misses you. So does everyone else." Hermione frowned.

"Ronald and Ginevra didn't sound like they missed me very much last week." She spat, her eyebrows scrunching together in a frown.

"They do. We all do." George looked at her pleadingly. "Come with me. We'll go to the Burrow, talk to my mother… please."

Draco Malfoy sat on one of the twin matching green armchairs in front of the fireplace, looking across at the woman who sat in the other one. The battle of Hogwarts had not broken Minerva McGonagall's spirit, that much was clear in the ramrod straight set of her spine, but the grey in her hair had grown and spread since Draco had seen her last, proving that it had indeed taken it's toll on everyone.

"So, Mr. Malfoy. It is my understanding that you wish to enroll into your seventh and final year at Hogwarts this year, correct?"

"Yes that is correct, _Headmistress McGonagall._" Hard as he tried, Draco was unable to completely keep the snark out of his tone. McGonagall looked at him sharply.

"You will keep a civil tone with me, young man." Draco had enough sense to look cowed.

"Alright Mr. Malfoy, you can attend your seventh year at Hogwarts on a few conditions. One, you will not use any racist or derogatory terms when describing fellow students. Two, you will be living in the West wing, which we are restoring for all the returning seventh years to live in. Thirdly, and lastly, this is not a permanent arrangement. If you put one toe out of line, you will be expelled. Do you understand?" She looked him over as she spoke. Draco inhaled, and then exhaled to calm himself.

"Yes ma'am. I understand. Thank you very much." Standing, Draco shook McGonagall's hand as he showed her to the front door.

**AN: So there you go, chapter three! The next chapter is going to be much more action-packed, I promise! It's already half done, and I can't wait for you all to read it. ;) Hopefully it's up soon! Please leave me a review lovelies!**

**Xo**

**~T**


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